


Isabelle's New Reality

by Trainer_Amy



Category: Queer Eye (2018), Survivor (US TV) RPF, The Big Flower Fight, The Great British Bake Off RPF, どうぶつの森 | Animal Crossing Series
Genre: Clarification: no real people in this fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trainer_Amy/pseuds/Trainer_Amy
Summary: Isabelle's TV habits inspire her to challenge the residents to a series of reality challenges. Each chapter throws the residents into a new reality show oneshot. The stakes can only get higher!
Relationships: Justin | C.J./Rex | Flick
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Survivor

"Good morning, residents! Today is another beautiful day on the island, 11:53 AM. There's nothing new to report... but hey! Did you catch that reality show on TV last night? The hosts were so charismatic, and the challenges were so cool! Oh, sorry, there I go again, prattling on about my TV habits..."

Isabelle listened to the day's voicemail message again and cringed a little. It's not like anyone would listen to it, anyway, she thought with a grimace. Ah, life on a 5-star getaway island, neighbours that loved and trusted each other, sending cute gifts through the mail and never ever disagreeing... For Isabelle, it was rough. They were open pretty much 24-7 at the Guest Services building, her and Tom Nook together, and he made the most awful dad jokes over and over again. There were only so many times she could pretend to dust the shelves.

No, what Isabelle needed was a purpose. What she needed was a nice, healthy conflict to resolve. If she didn't get one soon, all she would have to think about was her TV shows.

She sat bolt upright in her stool. Now that was an idea.

Convincing the residents to leave their homes was easy. K.K. Slider was performing, so that brought out some adoring fans. The resident representative was in the mountains somewhere fussing with flowers. As for Lyman, she just convinced him that she would need him to show Tom Nook and her exactly how to make that barbell. That meant everyone was outside, except Blathers, who would probably sleep through the whole thing. At that point it was a simple matter of locking all the doors and throwing the keys in the river.

When K.K. finished his set, he took a little bow and Isabelle took the stage.

"Let's give a little round of applause for K.K.! Now, before you go home, I thought we should all experience the beautiful day." An ominous growl of thunder sounded on the horizon. Perfect. "You'll find some materials have been left for you on the island outskirts. You have no shelter or food though." A wail from Prince broke the air. "Not to worry, I'm sure you'll be able to --" Her eyes flashed, "-- organize each other for that."

It was only a matter of time before they went at each other's throats.

As the residents headed off to the outskirts, Isabelle took up post in the trees above. Already she could see Prince whining about food, Wendy whining about the sunglasses in her house, and Leopold whining about a speck of mud on his sweater-vest. And yet, her joy was short-lived. The Resident Representative came sauntering with enviable purpose down the cliffside, and without a word, got to work building some wooden furniture. They ran over to the lakeside and immediately hooked a sea bass, and then got started on a fire. Everyone was, for the moment, content.

This would not do.

"Psst. Hey." Isabelle threw an apple from the tree to get the Representative's attention. They noticed, and jogged over.

"Hey Isabelle! Great idea!"

"Shh! Listen, there's going to be a twist. I hid a... token. You're gonna have to find this token if you don't want to be eliminated."

The Representative tilted their head to the side. "Eliminated?"

Isabelle nodded sagely, thinking back to the show last night. "You get kicked off the island."

"Oh no! I don't want anyone to be eliminated! I'll go look for the token right now!"

Right. That was one problem solved.

Unfortunately, the residents seemed to be getting on okay with some food in their bellies. K.K., caught up in this development, had pulled out his uke. Tom was playing with the twins and Norma was dishing out the food. The spitting rain was kept at bay by a wall of umbrellas. It looked pretty cozy, actually.

"Alllllll right, folks!" Isabelle rolled up to the group, imagining herself with a loudspeaker and several producers feeding her lines. "It's time for the big event! The challenge!" A flash of lightning punctuated her last word, and rain started pounding the grass into mud. "Team members will have to either run over to the museum, solve a puzzle to match the dinosaur fossil parts, or throw fruit at the opposing team."

"Great! Prince and I will be runners!" Lyman and Prince high-fived.

"Hmmmm. No." Isabelle tapped her chin. "Wendy and Elvis will be runners, Prince and Lyman will solve the puzzles, and Norma and Leopold will throw the fruit. Any questions?"

"What about the rest of us?" piped up Timmy.

"Sit tight," Isabelle snapped.

The race started with a thrill in Isabelle's heart. Lyman was yelling enthusiastically at Wendy to run faster, working himself up into a frenzy, and Wendy could only move her sheep legs so fast. Leopold aimed a peach at her but missed, bouncing it off Elvis's head with an "oof!" from the old lion. When the two runners reached the museum, they tagged their puzzle counterparts, who could only scratch their heads at the array of bones on the ground. Norma was trying to give advice, but Prince's brain worked in a totally different way from hers. Voice volume and frustration was mounting. Maybe this was too much conflict?

"Hey, everybody! I found the totem! Now no one has to get kicked off the island!"

The Representative was standing on the roof of the museum, waving one of the art pieces from the new wing of the gallery. With a grin, they slid down, arms cartwheeling, and landed on the bone pile with a crunch of invaluable fossils. "Oh yeah, and Blathers is in there and says the doors are locked so they can't get out. And also the storm is flooding the galleries a little? So yeah."

Ah, crap.

"We have to help our esteemed colleague, unh-hunh!" Elvis announced. Cheers went up. The residents organized themselves into rescue teams. Isabelle had totally lost control of the situation.

The doors were lifted off their hinges, the residents gathered buckets to start bailing and save any escaping bugs and fish, and Blathers was wrapped in a towel and comforted while Prince took care of the bugs. They even made sure to keep Blathers out of sight of the loose tarantulas! Isabelle felt a spike of pride in them, despite her annoyance. Her resident babies, working together in a time of hardship, looking after each other.

"You all win the challenge!" Isabelle announced once everything was cleaned up. She hoped no one else had caught the episode last night. "Let's all go home and have a nice warm drink."

"Um, Isabelle?" the Representative whispered amongst the cheering. "Our houses are still locked?"

Ah. Right.


	2. The Great British Bake-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle challenges the residents' creativity to make works of food art, featuring guest judges C.J. and Daisy Mae!

Isabelle’s plan had maybe worked a little too well. Residents were deep in thought, forgetting cherished items on riverbanks, and Lyman had even decided to move to another island. But “Team Player” was stamped right on Isabelle’s passport. This was definitely salvageable.

It was a beautiful day when Isabelle set up the marquee tent in the island’s plaza. She decorated the outside with balloons and flowers from the Egg Day celebrations (for some reason there had been a lot of leftovers) and rounded up C.J. from where he was livestreaming on the beach. Daisy Mae, visiting the island hawking her head turnips, was lured into the tent by the smell of a big sale.

Soon, residents started wandering in. When she had four - the Resident Representative, Amelia the down-to-earth vulture, Hazel the spunky squirrel, and Prince the sweet baby frog - she clapped her hands together and made her announcement.

“Good morning, island residents! The time is 9:21 AM, and we have some very special news. Last night I saw the cutest baking show and had a great idea! I hope you’re ready, bakers, because we have some very special guest judges today!

“C.J. here knows ALLLL about the importance of appearance! (C.J., please stop livestreaming.) He’s going to be very picky about your presentation. No, please don’t put any fish in your baking.” This last sentence was directed at the Representative, who reluctantly put away their fishing rod. “We also have Daisy Mae, the sweetest turnip vendor in the archipelago, who knows taste better than even her grandma Joan.” Daisy Mae flushed. “And of course, your host, me!

“It’s time for our island’s first ever… Great Island Bake-Off!

“Your first challenge is your Signature Bake. Bake something from a tried-and-true recipe you know, and show us your creativity. Your theme is the island’s bountiful fruit. We have every kind of fruit here that you could possibly need! Get started, bakers!”

The four started chatting excitedly, and Isabelle grinned to herself. It was the perfect activity to boost morale, and nothing could go wrong.

Hazel hurried over to the fruit rack, grabbing handfuls of cherries, apples, and pears. Her arms full, she barrelled back to her station, making the Representative side-step to avoid crashing into her. Prince’s eyes shone as he took in all the fruit, a little drool starting to drip from his open mouth. Amelia stood pondering at the counter, turning the fruit over to look for blemishes, before taking the entire cart of oranges. And the Representive, finally dodging the other contestants, took a single coconut, scampered back to their station, and left the tent.

Isabelle was confused, but her trust in the Representative was complete. Almost. They just got distracted sometimes, like when they saw a balloon. Or a fish. Or a butterfly.

“Two minutes left!” Isabelle announced after the clock ticked down.

The Representative scurried back into the tent, making a beeline for C.J. Both their eyes lit up, and Isabelle had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as fish streamed out of the Representative’s immense pockets. C.J. handed over a considerable number of Bells, which the Representative immediately used to clean out Daisy Mae’s stock. The turnips, somehow, all went back into the pockets.

At their station, the Representative took out a hammer, smashed a hole in the coconut, and stuck in a tiny umbrella.

“Annnd that’s time,” Isabelle announced. “Please bring your creations up to the front for judging.”

The Representative was first. “Coconut juice,” they announced proudly.

The juice was tart and a little bit sweet. Delicious, unfortunately. Daisy Mae and C.J. gave it top marks, but Isabelle suspected a conflict of interest.

Amelia brought up a single orange on a platter. When the judges glanced at her for clarification, she elaborated by placing the orange on top of her head. It fit perfectly. C.J. took a selfie with her.

Next was Hazel. She literally bounced up to the judges to the heavy beat of rock music emanating from the cherries on her shoulder. She placed the speaker proudly on the table.

“But what does it look like on the inside?” Isabelle carefully sliced into the cherry speakers. The music stopped immediately. “Ah, just electronics. Got it.”

As Hazel dejectedly brought her creation back to her station, Prince rolled up to the judges on a bright green scooter.

“Now how in the world did you make that!” Daisy Mae exclaimed.

“I got it from Nook’s Cranny just now! I took a bunch of fruit and traded it for my new scooter!” Prince was bright and sunny, and, Isabelle thought to herself, totally missing the point of the contest.

“Great job, contestants!” she announced. “For the technical challenge, we’re going to give you each a recipe to add to your Nook Phone. We’ll see who recreates it the closest as a chance to become our Star Baker!”

The recipe buzzed into everyone’s phone, and the room went silent. C.J. pushed his sunglasses even higher up on his head. “Uh, Isabelle?” he whispered. “This recipe needs five Wasp Nests? Do you think it’s the best for…?” He gestured around the tent.

“The Technical Challenge has been cancelled,” Isabelle announced brightly.

“Our last challenge is the Showstopper. Contestants will bake something that truly knocks our turnips off.” She shot a wink at Daisy Mae. “But first, let’s thank Tom Nook for letting us use this tent, and these wonderful double-doored refrigerators. You can get these pieces right in Nook’s Cranny. Isn’t that wonderful? Thanks, Tom, for letting me use your tent if I mentioned your store.”

Isabelle reset the clock, and the four residents got straight to work. Well, Prince got to scooting. Specifically, Prince scooted out of the tent and around the plaza while yelling “Whee!!”

For the other three, it was go-time. Hazel seemed to be making some sort of ice-cream thing? Isabelle hoped it would survive their sunny island weather. Hazel stuck it in the freezer, followed closely by Amelia. Amelia was making some kind of yard flamingo out of pears, but with alarmingly large eyes. The Representative was puttering around with wrenches, paintbrushes, and piping bags, hard at work on their own project.

They were so close to finishing. The clock was ticking down. It was then that disaster struck.

“My ice cream melted!” Hazel cried in frustration. Sobbing, she locked some out of the bowl, paused to savour it, and then let out huge gushes of tears. “You!” she screamed, whipping her finger at Amelia. “You left the fridge open! Now I have -- NOTHING!” The entire baked piece came crashing down into the garbage bin by her station.

Though the judges were stunned, the Representative came to the rescue. They had sculpted a life-sized depiction of Blathers assessing a fossil made out of peaches. It was wonderful, harking back to The Thinker, albeit with more feathers than muscles. With a smooth movement, the Representative ripped the head off and gave it to Hazel.

“Um, okay!” Isabelle clapped her hands together. “Well, I think it’s fair to say who’s leaving the tent today. He already left. It’s Prince. But as for our Star Baker? Well… I’m going to have to say it’s the power of friendship. Group hug, everybody!”

As the “awww”s went around the group, Isabelle pulled the Representative’s ear closer and whispered into it. “I saw you piping with the freezer door open,” she hissed. As the group dispersed, she flashed them a winning smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to vote! Which chapter do you want to see next?  
> 1\. America's/Britain's Got Talent  
> 2\. Queer Eye


	3. Queer Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New resident Billy is having some trouble fitting in on the island, until the Fab Five (well, the island's version) come to his rescue.
> 
> This is a C.J./Flick chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I watch a whole bunch of Queer Eye episodes in researching this post? Yes. Am I going to watch the rest of them now? Absolutely.

When Lyman left the island, taking his whole house with him, Prince was a little downtrodden. So it was natural for Isabelle to screen applications by sporty animals. She settled on one named “Billy” who sounded relatable enough for the young frog.

When Billy arrived, the problems began.

The door to the Resident Services building slammed open. In stormed a force that should never be reckoned with.

“Hey, Wendy! What can I do for you?”

“Isabelle.” Wendy crossed her hooves over her skirt. “I think you know that I am a simple sheep. I enjoy the basics. Beauty. Fashion. The essentials.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“This new resident does NOT respect me.”

Isabelle grabbed a clipboard and her reading glasses, Her heart had dropped somewhere around her stomach and butterflies were punching both organs. “Okay, is it something he says, or something he wears?”

“Oh, DON’T get me started. Firstly, he says a bad word with basically every sentence.”

“I’ve only ever heard him say… er… dagnaabit?”

Wendy slapped her hands over her ears.

“Okay, so you don’t like that word. Is there anything e--”

“That shirt! What is that, silk? Ugh, it SO doesn’t go with his fur. Oh, right, and I went over to his house and his floor is literally garbage. His furniture is made of cardboard. He’s ruining the island aesthetic and our rating is definitely going to go down.”

Isabelle was sweating. She hated conflict. She was kind of hoping Wendy would be passive aggressive enough to just say she had an issue and leave, but she was tapping her hoof like she expected Isabelle to do something about it. Truthfully, Isabelle already knew about these problems, and had already tried to talk to Billy about it, but Billy had just said “EH?” and tapped his ear until she left.

“Wendy,” she said finally, “thank you for coming to me with your concerns. I believe this problem might be too big for us to handle. We don’t want to put out a bad image for the island by forcing villagers to move when they just got here.” She thought back to the heartwarming show she had watched last night. “But I think I have a solution…”

Ten minutes later, Isabelle hung up the phone. Okay, she got that you can’t drive an SUV to an island. She would have to take action herself.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were all assembled - her own Fab Five.

Flick and C.J. had agreed instantly, dropping commissions and livestreams and their intimate personal life for the sheer mention of makeovers. Arriving in a boat together, they seemed insistent on promoting their flamboyance. C.J.’s shirt was a bright print of butterflies, and Flick had on his usual goth attire, but put a punk spin on it. The two posed back-to-back, and C.J. took a selfie. C.J. was on food and wine, since he had handled that okay in the cooking tent. Flick was under the impression that he was culture, and had prepared a book of poetry on the effervescence of snails. He was only a little disappointed to be put on design.

Culture’s true calling was obviously Blathers. Although not keen to “uproot a gentleman’s life and habits”, he was always willing to share the history of the fish, fossils, and masterpieces of the island. Isabelle assured him there were no bugs involved, and he was set.

Although there were a few candidates for fashion, Wendy among them, Isabelle decided to keep the Queer in Queer Eye and elect Raymond. The cat was pleasantly surprised, and showed up wearing a trendy shirt-and-vest combo and signature thick-framed glasses.

Finally, Isabelle picked Elvis for grooming. Really, he was a grizzly bear in all but species, and his regal mane was cooed over by all the residents. When approached, he gave a throaty chuckle and puffed up his chest.

Isabelle briefed them on the way to Billy’s house.

“Billy is a new resident, and he’s going to have a housewarming party to welcome him to the island. The problem is… well, his house. And his demeanor, and his fashion, and, well… you’ll see.”

Arriving at the humble wooden cottage, the Fab Five and Isabelle knocked on the door, and Billy answered. He was definitely wearing the same shirt as before, chewing loudly with his mouth open, and scratching his armpit. He let them into a one-room filled with cardboard boxes.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were still unpacking.”

“Naw, that them’s my furniture. Easy come, easy go.”

Flick was squinting in distaste at his surroundings, with not a single bug in sight, but Blathers was rallied by the sight of rows and rows of books on the walls. He took one down at random, opened it, and frowned at some of the missing pages.

“Aw, great, pass me one too.” When Blathers complied, Billy ripped out a page and stuffed it in his mouth. “That’s my snackin’ wall.”

“Oh good Lord,” Blathers whispered, tossing the book onto the cardboard-box table. It missed, hit the floor, and was immediately buried under a broken shovel and two tires.

C.J. cringed in disgust, both at the surroundings and the reckless consumption of books. The book wasn’t even ABOUT fish! He groped for Flick’s hand across the junk expanse. But Flick was otherwise occupied, having seen one thing to improve his day: a bug.

“Ah, the humble flea!” Flick began, picking it out of Billy’s goatee. “If only we could ponder something as magnificent --”

Elvis just moaned loudly, trying to cover as much of his mane as he could with his royal jacket.

“I mean, at least your fashion isn’t too bad,” Raymond sighed, then squinted closer. “Wait, are you wearing pants?”

“Nope! Gotta leave myself open to the island air.”

“Alright, Fab Five. Let’s head over to the Resident Services building and discuss our ideas.”

Elvis was already out the door and shaking out his mane.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

They started with Blathers, to try to curb the goat’s appetite for fine art. He showed Billy around the museum, especially the new art and culture wing. They skipped the arthropod area, for obvious reasons, but Blathers was keen to stop and explain every detail in the other wings. They were there for literal hours, and still Billy’s eyes lit up every time Blathers wondered aloud if he had a book on the subject. At the end of the tour, Blathers got down his big encyclopedia, opened it to the page on the dynamic painting, and proudly set it before Billy.

“Wow, Mr. Blathers! I certainly learned a lot from you today. And I mean a lot.” He chuckled to himself. “This painting is really a beaut.” And then he tore out the page and ate it.

Blathers gave up after that, shooing Billy over to C.J. in hopes that some real food would entice him. C.J. had convinced the Representative to catch a whole school of fish and had the grill all fired up. He was wearing his apron with “kiss the cook” hand-embroidered on it by a certain crafty dragon.

“Hey dude! Perfect timing. I got my livestream going and we’re gonna fry up these babies! Nyuk nyuk!”

“Eh? Live stream? That where the fish are?”

“No, silly! Like, social media. We got a huge followin’ and they’re all looking forward to seeing you cook up these babies.”

“Wha--? Babies?!”

“No, like. Fish. We’re cookin’ fish, Billy.”

Billy frowned. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Oi.

Before Elvis agreed to see Billy, he had the Representative and their net ready. When the Representative assured him that all the fleas were removed (though Billy hadn’t noticed), they entered:

“My salon!”

Elvis’s house was truly impressive with the gold and finery, but he had moved it all aside in favour of a low sink and an adjustable chair. Billy sat, and Elvis soon had him lathered up and blow-dried.

“The key to a mane is maintaining it. Haha! Get it? Let’s give you a bit of a snip… unh-hunh… Perfect.”

Billy now had a mane. It was horrifying with his horns. Billy couldn’t see it well anyway. On his way out, he took a page from Elvis’s book. Literally, Elvis had a fashion magazine and Billy needed a snack.

While Billy was out, Flick got started on the remodel. He wanted to preserve some of Billy’s character, so he reused the junk and created a truly enormous statue of a praying mantis. This was the home’s showpiece. It was now also the only piece of furniture. Flick nodded. Perfect.

Meanwhile, Billy was with Raymond getting some fashion tips.

“We’ll need to cover up those legs, and, er--” Raymond blushed. “Listen, I’ve got the perfect thing. A villager once gave it to me, and I love it so dearly, but I’m willing to part with it to help you. I want to help you, Billy. So here’s my maid outfit.”

“Well, gee, not the usual thing I wear, but I’ll try!”

In a hot minute, his horns had torn right through the lace. Raymond was devastated.

Isabelle had seen enough. She was watching all day, and though her Fab Five had been proudly assembled, she had to admit they were a bit self-centred. If Billy was going to fit in on this island, they would need what she did best: a little bit of Isabelle magic.

She took him on a walk around the island, after giving the Representative a quick list of jobs. They were strolling the beach - actually, Billy was jogging very slowly alongside her - and the sky was a beautiful blue.

“So, Billy. What did you think of your makeover experts today?”

He shrugged. “They had good intentions I guess, but look at me. You can’t fix ugly.” He looked downtrodden, defeated. If the Five had achieved anything with him today, she realized, it was to make him see only his faults.

“Billy. Your home is an expression of who you are. And your house is literally filled with garbage. I know you’re better than that, and when you start treating yourself better, other people will treat you better too.”

He smiled, and she saw a twinkle somewhere in his eyes. “You think that?”

“Absolutely! I’m the town’s people person. Now let’s fix you up the right way.”

On the day of the housewarming, Billy was ready. Isabelle watched from afar as he changed out of his usual shirt and into the athletic jacket and slacks she had picked out for him. He had trimmed his goatee and made sure all the fleas were out of it. As he met each resident, he greeted them with a warm handshake and a book carefully wrapped in gold paper, which he successfully kept out of his mouth. He welcomed them into his home, with new wallpaper and flooring and actual furniture crafted from sanded hardwood. He invited them to try the fruit salad he made, and they all agreed, surprisingly, that it was truly wonderful.

Isabelle, smiling serenely, wandered over to her Fab Five. C.J. and Flick were feeding each other pieces of apple, Blathers was immersed in the book he had received, and Elvis was nervously receiving compliments from Raymond about the maid’s outfit he was trying on. They gave Isabelle a cheery wave as she approached, and exchanged high-fives.

“Wow, I can’t believe Billy’s turnaround, nyuk-nyuk!”

“And it’s all thanks to us!” They pulled out their best dance moves. “The Fab Five!”


	4. The Big Flower Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabelle tasks the residents with creating ginormous floral structures for Cyrus and Reese's anniversary photo shoot.

The sun was shining, butterflies were alighting lazily on flowers, and Isabelle was once again frantically on the phone in the Resident Services building. She had been on hold for two hours, had twenty-two tabs open on her computer, and was seriously considering bringing the telegram back into fashion.

This was the sitch: her old friends Cyrus and Reese were once again celebrating their wedding anniversary. And what better place to do it than a 5-star island, right? Oh, it would be so much fun, exclaimed Reese: sunsets on the beach, shooting stars, and they could even get the flowers from the island! Isabelle liked the pair and Cyrus had made her a lot of furniture over the years, so Isabelle agreed enthusiastically. They were going to have the best anniversary ever!

They were not going to have the best anniversary ever.

Despite Isabelle’s best efforts, she absolutely could not get anyone in the wedding business to come to the island. Harv, the dog with the studio on a neighbouring island, at least offered his photography services, but he was often… not all in the present. She found him once gazing into a shell and talking about how “the universe feels so tingly, man.” He absolutely could not be trusted with details.

An automated voice came on over the phone: “The person you are trying to reach is not available. Goodbye.” And then it hung up.

Isabelle’s left eye twitched slightly. Okay, she was resourceful. She had the residents, and a beautiful island, and a whole bunch… of… flowers. A grin crept across her face. She thought back to the TV show she had binged last week, and an idea began to take shape.

“Heya, heya, Isabelle! What can I do for you?” The sloth tipped his bright green hat with patient slowness, and waved a claw at his cart of wares in the plaza. 

When Isabelle excitedly whispered her idea, a smile crept across his face.

“That’s great! The flowers can live their best and fullest lives. And I’m sure they’d love to celebrate love!”

With one judge secured, Isabelle ran her idea by Reese. The alpaca was delighted that everyone would take part, and suggested having all the pieces be revealed for the reception.

“Yay!” she exclaimed, trapping Isabelle in a hug.

“Yay!” Isabelle replied with weak enthusiasm. Reception was only two days away. Everyone was going to have to get moving.

\--

The cast of competitors before her was not ideal, but a surprising number of island residents had volunteered for flower creation. There was Pompom, the cute duck, who didn’t have to fake her enthusiasm to Reese; Norma, the placid cow, who loved any kind of arts and crafts; Elvis the somewhat cranky lion, who joined for reasons that were unclear to Isabelle. The Resident Representative, of course, was involved in every event they could, citing the island newsletter. And then there was Billy the goat, who thought he was at some kind of lunch meeting, but he had the muscle power, so what the hey.

“Listen up, competitors. We are going to make ginormous flower arrangements for Reese and Cyrus’s reception photo shoot, which is only two days away! You will have to assemble a frame for your sculpture, and then fill it with any flowers we have on the island.” Isabelle swept her arm outwards and imagined the camera panning over to the horde of picked and potted flowers.

“At the end of the building time, your creations will be evaluated by our clients, Reese and Cyrus, as well as local flower expert, Leif! Make sure you pay attention to what Reese and Cyrus want, and make sure to treat the flowers with care. Ready, contestants?” She held up a watering can and pretended to play it like a trumpet. The game was on.

Immediately the contestants scrambled over to the scrap pile. Isabelle was pleased but not proud of the pushing and shoving, but within a minute each competitor had some pieces that promised greatness.

“So, Reese, what do you want to see in the flower arrangements?” Isabelle would later remind each competitor that this information was extremely important.

“Lots of pink and white! Cy-Guy is a carpenter, so if the contestants are inspired by his work, that would be amazing.”

“What about you, Cyrus?”

“Whatever Reese wants, I want too. I just wanna make her happy.”

“Aw, Cyrus!”

\-----

A few hours in, and things were starting to take shape. Isabelle headed over to Norma first. She was surrounded by blueprints, written notes and scribbled diagrams. Several flowers woven into braids were scattered around her feet. Isabelle even caught sight of a moodboard propped in the corner, filled with suspiciously close-up shots of Reese and Cyrus. One thing, however, was obviously missing.

“Norma,” Isabelle said cautiously. “I see you haven’t started on your frame yet.”

“Oh, hey Isabelle! Yeah, I wanted to make sure everything was perfect before I settled on anything concrete.” Little flowers bloomed around her smile in the delight emoji.

“Remember you only have two days, okay? Sometimes having something is better than Reese cry-- I mean, nothing.”

She checked on Pompom next, relieved to see that her sculpture had a full frame and some flowers already on the bottom. That relief soon turned to dread as her eyes drifted upwards and upwards towards the top of the dome. Pompom had taken “ginormous” to heart.

“Love your enthusiasm, hon,” Isabelle tread carefully, “just, maybe, how are we going to get it to Harv’s Island?”

“Not a problem, rah-rah!” Pompom winked in her direction. She did not elaborate.

Well, okay. Reese would maybe like it even if she had to stage a shoot in the dome. The Resident Representative, at least, seemed to be making progress. They had a spherical frame and an ocean of pink and white flowers. Cool, great, Reese’s thing.

Elvis’s creation was… probably not Reese’s thing. He had constructed a seven-foot frame of iron that looked like… a dragon? He was headed over to select his flowers, and Isabelle winced as he strode into the black tulips.

“Elvis, how is your flower selection going?” Isabelle tapped him on the arm, mentally urging him towards the wedding colours.

“It’s great, unh-hunh. I just need all of these black tulips for the scales, and lots of red and orange. My dragon’s gonna go RAWWW y’know? And shoot flames and stuff.”

“Maybe… pink flames?” Isabelle suggested weakly.

Elvis considered. “Nah, red and orange is cooler. See ya, Isabelle!”

Oi. At this rate, they might not have any arrangements at all. Isabelle nibbled her fingernails, but was pulled from her worrying by the unmistakable snuffling and crunching of something going wrong. She whipped aside a hydrangea bush and caught Billy red-handed, literally, hunched over the flowers and stuffing petals into his mouth.

“Dagnabbit,” he said quietly, as Leif’s scream penetrated the void.

Thinking quickly, Isabelle consulted the Representative, who pulled out an encyclopedia from one of their immense pockets. Billy was happily distracted by munching on the pages instead.

(Across the island, Blathers cracked one eye open. “WHOOOO?!”)

\----

Day two started bright and early. The floral sculptures were definitely beginning to take shape: Norma’s timeline of the couple’s marriage, featuring small meaningful scenes, stretched horizontally on a sturdy frame. Elvis’s dragon glared fiercely atop a spray-painted rock. Pompom’s pink and white flowers were creeping up her colossal frame. The Representative was beginning to stack their sphere with potted plants. Their fate was in their own hands now, and Isabelle could only bring the pep and puns.

“Artists, we will present the sculptures to Reese and Cyrus at the end of today. That means you only have ten hours left to complete your masterpieces. Better not be ‘pollen’! Get it, like stallin’? Anyway…”

Somehow, miraculously, it looked like they were going to complete their pieces in the ridiculous time frame. By afternoon, most of the pieces were assembled and planted. Pompom, though, was having a problem. She was up on a scaffold, happily placing pink and white wherever there was room. Isabelle and Cyrus watched thoughtfully.

“Y’know,” Cyrus mumbled around the grass in his mouth, “I’ve built a lot of structures in my time, but nothin’ ever so tall as that. I’m worried that, structurally…”

Isabelle had stopped listening, and time seemed to go in slow motion. Atop the scaffold, Pompom placed the last of her flowers and gave a satisfied happy clap. Her eyes were closed with pleasure in the second that Isabelle saw it start to sway, and let out a yelp. Eyes swivelled towards her and away from the impending disaster, and Isabelle closed her own eyes and covered them with her paws.

The crash never came. She peeped one eye open. What she saw astounded her.

Shirt off, muscles bulging, sweat pouring down his horns, a flower still poking out between his clenched teeth, was Billy. He was straining, but immediately the others ran over to help. Elvis rolled his eyes first but eventually joined them as well. The day was saved!

“Get out of the way! It’s coming down!” Cyrus rushed the competitors, yanking them out of the way as the upper layers started raining down around them. The structure came down with a mighty crash, a plume of dirt, and a fatal silence.

A single tear rolled down Pompom’s cheek.

“It’s okay, Pompom. We can still save some of it. Look.” The Representative attempted to extract a hydrangea bush. It crumbled in their hands.

Quick thinking once again saved the day. Isabelle helped her down from the scaffold. “Pompom, how would you like to be a judge?”

The sound of a sniffling duck was awful, but reassuring. Pompom looked up at her with a quavering beak. “You mean it?”

Isabelle smiled and nodded. Leif’s eye was still twitching from Billy’s snack, and at this rate he might actually have an aneurism.

“Rah-rah! Thank you, Isabelle!” Pompom jumped up in the air with enthusiasm and started a little dance around the dome.

“Her own fault, really,” a slithery voice muttered from behind a curtain. Isabelle elbowed it, and felt a twinge of satisfaction at Tom’s quiet yelp. “Ow. And also, she got help from the other contestants. If I were you, I would have disqualified her on the spot.”

“That’s why you’re not a judge, grumpy,” Isabelle whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Let them be wholesome and work together. It won’t kill you.”

The end of the day drew near, and it was time to evaluate. Isabelle stepped back to let Cyrus, Reese, Pompom, and an extremely tense Leif see the result of the contestants’ blood, sweat, and tears.

First was Norma. Her timeline grew in size from left to right, until the final panel featured Cyrus and Reese, recreated from hyacinths, gazing at each other with true love. The timeline itself (reinforced with more steel legs after Pompom’s incident) featured a bed of planted pink mums and roses, with the scenes made out of lighter cut flowers. It was a little mathematical, in Isabelle’s opinion, but Reese had a giant smile on her face.

“Look, dear, that’s when we first met! And that’s when you made me my first chair!”

Cyrus nodded seriously and pretended to contemplate, but Isabelle saw the twinkle in his eye as he watched his wife coo.

“Very good job with the plants, too,” Leif remarked, stroking a petal. “The planted ones seem happy and healthy, and the cut ones show a lot of care in their placement.” He nodded approvingly.

“It’s kinda small,” Pompom shrugged. “But it’s pretty! I like it.”

Next was Elvis. He had created a base of spray-painted tinfoil “rock” that looked surprisingly realistic, studded with “gems” made of burned petals. His black and gold-scaled dragon was menacing, hyperrealistic with scales made of overlapping petals. Lilies emerged from the brow and spine, giving the illusion of armoured spikes. The fire emerging from its gaping maw was made of mums flickering from a wind machine inside the sculpture. When the mums’ petals floated down onto the judges, Isabelle winced before remembering it wasn’t actually hot.

The judges stared in awe. Or maybe disappointment. Leif had to sit out the rest of the judging.

“And what’s this?” Reese said finally.

“A dragon. Unh-hunh.”

Cyrus’s eyes lit up, and he started to say “Coo--”, but was cut off with an elbow from Reese. He cleared his throat and looked down solemnly.

“This really doesn’t match the brief, you know,” said Pompom, hands on hips.

“K,” Elvis shrugged, “It’s cool, though.”

“We can’t take our anniversary pictures in front of a dragon,” Reese added with a sharp look at Cyrus. “Sorry, but this can’t be the winner.”

Elvis didn’t seem that disappointed. The dragon would spend the next week outside his house.

The last contestant to be judged was the Representative. Their creation was hidden underneath a black cloth, and they ushered the judges over with an air of secrecy. One at a time, the judges went under the cloth, and Isabelle followed out of sheer curiosity. It was kind of dark under there, but she was in some kind of maze made of stacked furniture. With an appraising eye, Isabelle determined it was quite well-made furniture. Finally she made it to the center of the maze, where floor lights highlighted the creation in all its glory.

Isabelle didn’t get it.

It was a sphere. Inside were stacked rows and rows of potted pink and white flowers of all varieties. Wire mesh covered the outside, where each hole had been filled with a cut pink or white flower. There was no discernable theme or pattern. Actually, it kind of looked like the Representative had just taken every pink or white thing they could find and thrown it all in a pile.

“I, I,” stammered Reese. “I LOVE it. Pink! White! You even used a bunch of Cy-Guy’s furniture in the design! This is it! This is the winner! Get Harv - we have to take our photos right away!”

Cyrus smiled, and, naturally, agreed with everything his wife said. Pompom was outvoted. With a congenial shaking of hands, Norma and the Representative exchanged congratulations, and the reception began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> partner: painstakingly arranges materials in the most aesthetic way possible, goes through all photo settings and explores angles. 8 Heart Pieces.  
> Me: clicks wedding bench until it tells me there’s no more room; photo angle blocks Reese’s face. 11 Heart Pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave chapter suggestions in the comments!


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